Deductions with Archie
by thefaultoflegend
Summary: Sherlock takes an adventure in babysitting when he finds Archie to be quite enjoyable company. When Archie makes quite an interesting deduction about Sherlock and a certain pathologist, it forces Sherlock to confront his feelings and realize that caring for people may not be so bad after all.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh no," exclaimed Mary Watson as she stared down at her phone.

"What? What's wrong?" asked John quickly. Sherlock looked up at Mary and shook his head.

"Calm down, John. A friend is in the hospital. Nothing serious. No need to be alarmed," mumbled Sherlock before he took a small bite of the eggs Mary made him. The Watsons and their baby daughter had gone to have breakfast with Sherlock that morning. They said it was because they hadn't seen him a while but the truth was they were worried about his eating habits as of late. So Mary had cooked and watched Sherlock intensely as he slowly ate. That is until she got the text message.

"Archie's in the hospital. Mallory just texted me. Appendicitis."

"Archie as in the young boy at your wedding?" asked Sherlock genuinely. Mary looked over to see that he had miraculously finished eating his breakfast.

"Yes, Sherlock. Why?" John asked but his friend was already sliding a Belstaff onto his shoulders.

"I just figured out what I'm going to do today," he replied before grabbing something off his desk and walking out of the flat and down the stairs. He had been bored and spending the morning with the young boy could prove to be beneficial for the both of them. Archie reminded Sherlock of himself as a child, and Sherlock was more than happy to fuel the boy's enthusiasm. Besides, he did owe him some pictures.

When Sherlock got to Bart's, he automatically headed straight for the lab, pushing open the door dramatically before walking in. Before him sat Molly Hooper, her hair pulled into a high ponytail and her form hunched over a microscope. He wasn't sure if she hadn't heard him come in or if she was simply ignoring him. She was still mad at him over the drug-incident and he wasn't so great at asking for forgiveness. He walked over and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Sherlock?" she asked without looking up. He stood beside her, his hands behind his back and a stoic expression on his face.

"Molly. Is it customary to bring a gift to a child when they are in the hospital?" he questioned. She looked up now and raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

"Yes…why?"

"Good. Do you have any spare eyeballs?" He smiled widely at her.

"First of all what children do you know and second of all you can't take an eyeball to a child, Sherlock. I can't imagine a mother would appreciate that," she replied while giving him a cold stare. He sat on the stool beside her.

"The Watsons ring bearer has appendicitis and I should like to visit him. Cheer him up, I suppose. And if you had children Archie's age you would let them look at an eyeball." She scrunched up her nose in thought.

"I suppose I would but that doesn't mean…"

"Exactly. So the eyeball? Please?" She didn't reply. "For Archie?" he asked again and gave her one of the puppy-dog faces that she couldn't resist no matter how mad she was. She rolled her eyes and walked over to a freezer, pulling out an eye and handing it to Sherlock. He smiled gratefully at her before going to walk out of the lab again.

"How many more times do I have to apologize before I'm forgiven?" he asked her before he left.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Then I guess I'll have to keep trying. I'm sorry, Molly Hooper. Truly. Thank you for the eyeball." She smiled at him so he gave her a wink before leaving the lab.

When Sherlock arrived at Archie's room he found the young boy with his nose in a mystery book; his eyes were lit up and shifting back and forth across the page. Sherlock had a flashback to when he was a young boy and how much he enjoyed reading. He always learned from books and he loved being transported to anywhere and everywhere just by cracking the spine. Having a mind palace meant that he was an excellent visualizer, an important thing to be when one is an eight year old little boy who is desperate from some quality intellectual human interaction. Books created that for him. Books wove words into stories and stories into pictures in Sherlock's head. He created the brightest of blues and the tallest of trees. He envisioned good guys and bad guys and dead guys and smart guys. He went to crime scenes and solved the murders before the characters even collected all the evidence. And even though he was ahead intellectually, he still found comfort in those books.

"Mr. Holmes?" he heard a soft voice ask as he was brought out of his reverie. He focused in on Archie again who now had his book lying off to the side.

"Archie," he replied, walking into the room and sitting down on a chair beside his bed. "I heard you were sick. I brought you something." He held up the bag with the eye ball and the curly haired book looked at it with amazement.

"Whoa! A real eyeball! Did you bring my pictures?" Sherlock retrieved a stack of photographs he managed to grab before leaving the flat, most of them containing beheadings. The boy took them and Sherlock watched as his face lit up with pleasure. "Thanks, Mr. Holmes!" exclaimed Archie. "Your job is so cool. I want to be just like you when I grow up."

"No you don't," Sherlock said without even thinking. He pursed his lips as he realized what he said. But it was true. He didn't want Archie to end up like him. He didn't want Archie to hold people at arm's length or be closed off to those around him. He watched as Archie simply shrugged and looked at the pictures again.

"Will you teach me how to do your thing?" the young boy asked.

"What thing? Please try to be more specific. I know you are much smarter than that." Archie scrunched his eyebrows together and tried again.

"Will you teach me how you know someone with just a look?" Sherlock cracked a smile and leaned forward to talk to the child.

"Okay. Look at me. Now use all of your senses to notice things about me. Get them all in your head. Come to conclusions about what that information could mean. Now eliminate anything that couldn't be true about me. Whatever is left has to be true." The boy gave Sherlock a once over.

"Your pants are wet on the bottom so I think you walked here today cuz it's raining out. You haven't been sleeping. Your eyes are all red." Archie poked a finger under Sherlock's eye and giggled. "And you went to see your girlfriend today."

Sherlock sat back, shocked, and blinked a few times before answering. "Sorry?"

"Your girlfriend. You smell like a lady but it's not what Mrs. Watson smells like. So I think it's the lady that does pato…path…"

"Pathology," sighed Sherlock.

"Yeah. Mr. Watson said you have a friend who works on the dead people. Do you think she'd let me see?" This little lesson in deduction took quite an unexpected turn.

"No," replied Sherlock. "But why do you think she's my girlfriend?"

"Cuz she gave you the eyeball. And you were all smiley when you came in. And now your face is turning red, Mister Holmes." Archie giggled as, true to his word, Sherlock's face began to turn a bright shade of red.

"She's not my girlfriend," replied the consulting detective.

"Okay. But you like her." Sherlock looked about the room for a minute before turning back to the boy.

"Nicely done," he said before spending the afternoon with his new protégé.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! This was originally supposed to be a one-shot but I thought Archie and Sherlock were too cute to not write about again. Also I use Ava's name here but this does not take place in the same universe as the How to Apologize series. Warning: major fluff ahead. I hope you like it!-thefaultoflegend**

Sherlock strolled down Baker Street with his coat collar pulled up around his neck and his hands behind his back, his head held high in the air. Beside him, walked a small boy in a similar fashion, eyeing the consulting detective every once in a while to make sure he was copying his every move. The air that day was light and surprisingly no rain threatened to pour down on the city. Sherlock surveyed passersby as he walked, deducing cheating husbands, recent deaths in families, and occupations of various people. The only thing out of the ordinary was the baby girl strapped to the consulting detective's chest and a messenger bag full of various baby items over his shoulder.

"Mr. Holmes!" he heard from behind him and turned to see that the little boy was straggling behind him. He stopped and waiting for the child to catch up.

"I told you, Archie. You can call me Sherlock," stated the detective before starting off down the sidewalk once again.

"Okay. Mr. Sherlock, where are we going?" asked Archie as he once more tried to keep up.

"It's a surprise. And it's just Sherlock."

"Okay, Just Sherlock." Sherlock threw the boy an irritated look but cracked a smile once he saw that Archie was giggling madly, his little hand covering his mouth.

Mary had contacted Sherlock that morning in a frenzy saying that her friend was in need of a babysitter and that both John and Mary had to work. Sherlock was already set to watch Ava, the Watson's daughter, but when he found out that Archie was the one who also needed babysat, he happily obliged. It took about one hour with the rambunctious child in 221B before Sherlock decided to get out and work off some of the boy's energy.

They now reached the end of the street when Sherlock felt a small hand in his. "What are you doing?" asked the consulting detective, startled as he stared down at Archie. Before them, cars zipped the road and taxis honked madly, fighting their way through the London traffic.

"Mum says I have to hold hands when I cross the street. Besides, you're walking too fast." Sherlock simply nodded and didn't let go of the boy's hand even after they got across the street. He also slowed his pace considerably.

He hoped that he wouldn't run into Lestrade or Mycroft on this little journey. He knew that they would never let him live it down, holding Archie's hand and having Ava strapped to him, his other hand wrapped protectively around her stomach.

They walked some more and just as Archie was beginning to grow tired of walking, they reached their destination.

"The hospital?" said the little boy in disgust. "Why would you…" But then his face lit up in excitement, his little feet bouncing up and down taking Sherlock's hand with him. "You're letting me see the bodies!" he exclaimed joyfully and started racing toward the door, the roles reversing as this time Sherlock was dragged along with a happy smile on his face.

He followed Archie inside and went down to the morgue, stopping before they entered. "Now you must understand, there are some rules," started Sherlock as he bent down carefully to look at the boy. "One, don't tell your mother or Mr. and Mrs. Watson I brought you here. They would kill me. Two, don't tell your mother or Mr. and Mrs. Watson I brought Ava here. They would kill me twice. Three, don't touch anything. Four, listen to Molly. Five, no shouting…"

"Maybe I should use rules three, four, and five on you, Sherlock," came a voice from behind them and Sherlock turned around to see Molly Hooper standing in her lab coat, a smug smile on her face.

"I'm not a child, Molly," he replied but couldn't help but smile anyway.

"Molly? So this is the girl you like!" shouted Archie suddenly before Sherlock clapped a hand over the boy's mouth and grinned at the pathologist.

"Kids," he said to her and then looked down at Archie who had his head turned up toward Sherlock. "May I remind you of rule five?"

"No shouting," said Archie through the detective's hand and Molly starting giggling, letting them into the morgue.

"So you must be Archie," she said once they were inside and Sherlock had Ava cradled in his arms, a bottle in her mouth. "Don't you think that's a bit unsanitary, Sherlock? We're in a morgue," she said as an aside.

"No we're in your morgue which is the cleanest place I know," he replied cheekily.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the little boy, putting her hands on her knees to get onto his level. "I'll let you see a body and watch me do my report but you have to promise not to touch anything, okay?" she said to Archie who nodded heavily, making Molly smile. She put on a pair of gloves and pulled a corpse out.

Sherlock paused from his feeding to bring a stool over so Archie could see easily. Molly smiled at the consulting detective and felt a blush reach her cheeks as Archie half-whispered, "It's okay, Sherlock. Molly likes you, too." He simply ruffled the boy's hair, avoiding eye contact with Molly before sitting back down and turning his attention back to Ava.

He was in a surprisingly good mood that day, considering he hadn't had a case in a few days, but child care was sometimes more fun for him anyway and he seemed to have a knack for it. He could quiet Ava faster than either Mary or John and was extremely successful at diaper changing after only watching a few YouTube videos. His gaze now held his goddaughter's as she reached to wrap a hand around one of his fingers, her little fist holding on tight and her eyes beginning to droop. He sighed happily and turned his head back up to look at the other child currently under his care.

Archie's face was lit up, his mouth open in amazement, and a stray curl bouncing up and down on his forehead. He listened to and watched Molly carefully as she explained the different parts of the body, what she has to do when she performs an autopsy, helping the little boy figure out how the dead man was killed. Her voice was soft and caring, making Archie latch onto her every word and his excitement grew as hers did. Sherlock smiled at the two of them.

He never imagined himself having children, but he wouldn't mind having ones like Ava or Archie. Two kids with bright eyes and sharp minds, their interests strange to others but important to themselves, always eager to learn, but also able to be caring and kind like… well like Molly. He looked at her and Archie again, a smile on his face so big that it almost hurt. Molly finished up, sliding the body back in and snapping her gloves off before carefully helping Archie down off of the stool, and accepting his hug when he lunged at her legs, thanking her for the small lesson.

"Thank you for that demonstration, Molly," said Sherlock softly, trying not to wake Ava as he strapped her back into the carrier on his chest.

"You and Archie are very welcome," she replied.

"Would you like to join the three of us for lunch?" he asked her now. "I was going to go to a fish and chips place and then take Archie to the park."

"The park! Really?" asked the boy and Sherlock nodded with a smile.

"I would love to," replied Molly as she laughed at the little boy's excitement. "Just let me grab my things." She walked out and Archie approached Sherlock.

"Is this a date?" he asked.

"No. Do people usually take children on dates?" asked the consulting detective.

"I suppose not," replied the little boy thoughtfully and before Sherlock could respond, Molly was back. They four left the hospital, picked up their food, and made their way over to the park, eating on a spot in the shade before Sherlock allowed Archie to run off and play.

"You know you're surprisingly really good with them," commented Molly as Sherlock blew a raspberry on Ava's stomach.

He shrugged. "They're easier to get along with than adults," he stated.

"Thanks," Molly said through mock anger.

"Aside from you, of course," he relented with a small grin and a blush.

"You're not so bad yourself," she smiled back and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ooooo," snickered Archie as he approached them and Sherlock turned even redder causing Molly to laugh lightly.

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, switching from working on Archie's deduction skills and cooing over little Ava. Sherlock thought about Archie's comment as he watched Molly interact with the two kids. _Is this a date? _No, but maybe someday it could be, he decided before scooting closer to his little clan, completely content to be right there with them.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This wasn't originally supposed to be a Sherlolly story (it was never supposed to be more than a one-shot but whoops, here we are) but it's kind of heading in a Sherlolly direction so let me know what you think about that. Also information came from the London Science Museum website. Thanks for reading!**

John Watson climbed the steps to 221B, whistling a happy tune along the way. He had the day off and was going to visit his best friend after a few days of not seeing him. He half-hoped that Sherlock would have a good case to work on. They hadn't been out together in a while and John was starting to get antsy at his nine to five job. However, when he walked into Sherlock's flat he was met with an undesired sight.

"John! Hello!" said Sherlock happily just as he was beginning to walk out the door.

"Sherlock. Hi. Are you leaving? Going on a case?" John asked hopefully but Sherlock simply shook his head.

"No. No cases today. I'm going to the museum with Archie and Molly. Mallory should be dropping the boy off at any minute."

John looked at him confused. No cases. Going out. To a museum. Where there wasn't a case happening. "Is this something you're being forced into?" the doctor asked with his eyebrows raised. This wasn't like Sherlock at all.

"No. Of course not. It was my idea. Mallory needed a sitter again and I thought Archie would enjoy the museum, that's all."

"And Molly?" John asked intrigued.

"Yes, well Molly is a friend and she enjoys the museum and Archie seems to enjoy her so it made sense." John laughed lightly and shook his head.

"You know you've been spending a lot of time with the two of them. What's gotten into you?" It was true. Sherlock had been spending more time at Bart's, more time babysitting Archie, and even had a few outings with both Molly and Archie. It was if the detective was playing house, picking up the wife and the son whenever he wished.

"They're good company," replied Sherlock easily with a shrug of the shoulders as he grabbed his Belstaff and passed John, beginning to walk down the steps. John followed closely. "You're off with Mary and Ava all the time so I had to find some new partners."

"So you're replacing me?"

"John, don't be absurd. I'd be lost without my blogger. Why? Are you jealous?" Sherlock flashed John a wicked grin and John shot him an exasperated look.

"No! Why would I be jealous?"

"You're jealous," Sherlock stated simply.

"I'm not…" started John but then shook his head as a cab pulled up to the side of the street. "I'm happy for you, Sherlock. You seem to be enjoying yourself." Sherlock simply gave a curt nod but John was proven right when a curly headed boy jumped from the cab and ran to Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his legs.

"Sherlock!" yelled Archie and the consulting detective smiled down at the boy, ruffling Archie's hair as he did so.

"Archie. I presume that you are excited for our outing?" asked Sherlock happily and John couldn't help but smile and the detective's cheerfulness.

"It's all he's been talking about," said Mallory as she walked to Sherlock and shook his hand. "I'll pick him up here around five? Thanks for doing this again, Sherlock. He just loves spending time with you. He doesn't really have any male figures in his life and well…" she gave a sideways glance to her son who was now bent over and studying some bugs on the sidewalk, "you do him a lot of good. See you later!" she called out and climbed back in the cab.

"What does that mean?" Sherlock asked John. "I do him a lot of good?"

A smile overtook John's face. "It means you're like a father figure, Sherlock. And she's right. You're good with him." Sherlock still looked confused but John just laughed. "I'll be letting you go then. You don't want to be late. Tell Molly I said hi," said John and backed away, going to the side of street to hail a cab but not before he caught a glimpse of Sherlock reaching down to take Archie's hand as the pair chatted amiably.

Molly Hooper stood outside of a large pillared building in her tan trousers and multi-colored jumper, watching the people who were passing by. Families surrounded her, people with strollers and baby carriers, people dragging teenagers inside the museum. She took particular interest in a young couple who had their three children with them. All three of the kids had tight holds on their parent's hands and were pulling them into the doors, too eager to get started. She loved seeing that, children excited about learning.

Speaking of which, another sight that was coming toward her made her face light up even more, Archie and Sherlock, holding hands and waving at her. She waved back and began to walk toward them when Archie broke from Sherlock's grip and ran at Molly, giving her a hug. Molly hugged him back and grinned. "And how's Archie today?"

"I'm good! Sherlock said that there's all kinds of stuff here! Can we see the spaceships and the trains and the planes and all the sciency things?" asked Archie as he jumped up and down.

"Yes. I'm sure we'll get to see everything you want, Archie," said Molly enthusiastically as Sherlock caught up to the two of them.

"Molly Hooper," he said and flashed her a smile.

"Sherlock," she said back and they began to walk into the museum, Archie pulling both of them along with him. "So what made you decide to do this?"

"What do you mean? His mother needed me to watch him again," he replied.

"Yes, but Sherlock Holmes doesn't dwell in science museums cluttered with screaming children," replied Molly with a grin.

He rolled his eyes. "It could be educational for him, you know," he said and looked down at the little boy between them. "Besides, I've been trying to get them to put in a science of deduction exhibit for years. Maybe I could convince them while we're here."

"Oh, Sherlock!" laughed Molly and he laughed right along with her, letting Archie pull them in to get tickets.

Five minutes later they were standing in front of a massive steam engine to which Archie just stared at his mouth agape. He went over to read the placard when Sherlock ambled up beside him. "Unimportant. You won't need to know this," he said in the boy's ear and then received a whack on the arm from Molly. "What was that for?" he asked, turning to her.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the display. "Let him read what he wants. What if one day he decides he wants to work on trains? Or work with steam power? Won't that information be important then?"

"He's far too smart for that," replied Sherlock but Molly threw him a look. "Fine," he said and put his hands up in surrender. "I'll let him read what he wants." She smiled in triumph and the two walked back to Archie who was now running off toward the space exhibits.

After a few hours, they made it to the top floors of the museum where the health displays were kept. "Ah," said Sherlock. "Now these are the kinds of things that could be useful." Molly just rolled her eyes and smiled at Archie who was still excited about the displays.

"Oooo, Archie, look at this," said Molly as she walked over to a small bundle of old cloth. "It's an old Egyptian mummy."

"Cool! How did they do that?" he asked as he went to stand beside her, peering through the glass of the display.

Molly thought for a second, trying to formulate a response that a young boy would understand. But before she could say anything, Sherlock cut in. "When someone died, they removed all of their organs and preserved them in containers so that they wouldn't decay. Then they would put packets of a chemical mixture to soak up all of the body fluids. After that was done, they wrapped the body in linens for it to be preserved."

"But why would people do that?" asked the boy.

"Well," started Molly. "The Egyptians believed that a person's spirit was attached to their body and that it must be preserved to keep the spirit intact. If people wanted to go the afterlife, then their body had to stay in good condition."

"Highly illogical," interrupted Sherlock. "There cannot be the existence of a soul or of an afterlife." The three started to walk away from the display and across the rest of the floor.

"But," said Molly with a sideways glance to the detective, "everyone is entitled to their own opinions."

"It seems creepy," replied Archie with a small shudder.

"Yes well people have a hard time understanding death. For a long time people struggled in determining whether or not somebody was dead. They would think someone to be dead and bury the person, only to open the coffin back up years later and find scratch marks on the inside from people who were buried alive," explained Sherlock.

"That's where all of the stories about vampires and zombies come from," said Molly.

"Yes. Most people can't come to terms with death. That's also why people have ridiculous celebrations and customs. Like funerals or tombs or mourning clothes. Sentiment gets the best of people," added Sherlock.

"Is that why you guys help solve murders? So people will understand death?" asked the young boy as they started to walk back down to the ground floor.

"Well, yes," said Molly. "I like to do autopsies because it gives the families a sense of closure about their loved ones. It's harder to not know how someone died."

The young boy nodded at Molly, taking her hand and reaching across to grab Sherlock's as well. "What about you, Sherlock?" he asked.

The consulting detective shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He had once referred to his solving crimes as an alternative to getting high. But he knew that he couldn't tell Archie that, especially from the way that Molly was currently looking at him. He also couldn't deny that there were times, however rare, that seeing a family in relief after he caught a killer sent a feeling of contentment through him. "Yeah. I agree with what Molly said," he said to the young boy instead. Archie seemed satisfied with his answer and pulled the two adults ahead to the IMAX theater, as Sherlock had promised him a movie.

"Two adults and one for your little boy?" asked the woman standing at the ticket booth. Sherlock and Molly immediately flushed crimson as Archie started giggling.

"He's uh… he's not ours," stuttered Molly.

"Right. Er…We're not together," added Sherlock as the woman simply smirked and handed them the tickets. Sherlock looked over at Molly once they were seated, Archie in the middle, and she gave him a small smile.

After the movie was over, the three shared a cab back to Baker Street first. "Today was fun," said Molly as she stroked Archie's hair. He had fallen asleep against Molly's shoulder only two minutes into the trip.

"Yes, I agree," he replied and then hesitated slightly. "What you told Archie, about doing autopsies, was that true?"

"About providing answers to families? Yeah, it was. I could never imagine not knowing how my father died. I think it would have killed me. So if I can give some sort of security to people… I know it sounds stupid…"

"No," said Sherlock. "Not stupid at all. Nice, actually. It's… kind of you." He looked out the window, watching the streets of London blur by, running through them in his mind palace.

"But what about you? You never gave us a real answer," she said, her voice cutting immediately through his thoughts. He turned to her and pursed his lips slightly before answering.

"I used to do it instead of getting high. And now…"

"And now you've learned how to care about people," she finished for him and he smiled slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. "It's not a bad thing you know. I know what your brother tells you about sentiment. But I like this side of you. The side that cares enough to take little boy's to the science museum."

"Well it's always nice to have my pathologist with me," he replied and it was her turn to blush.

They arrived and he handed her some money to pay for the cab fare before picking Archie up and awkwardly hanging the sleeping child over his shoulder. "I'll text you," he said with a small smile and a whisper.

"See you later," she replied with a bright grin, one he returned as the cab drove off and he made plans for their next adventure.


	4. Chapter 4

"I need you again, Molly Hooper. Please come to Baker Street immediately." Sherlock's voice was frantic on the phone as the pathologist on the other end held her mobile away from her ear a bit. Both screaming and crying could be heard from the other side of the line, each sound seeming to escalate as the seconds passed. Molly's ears took a second to adjust to the screeching before she placed her head back onto the receiver.

"What the hell is going on over there?" she asked loudly so as to be heard over the noise.

"John and Mary went on a mundane with trip with friends so that they could have sex in their hotel room without being interrupted by a baby. I was guilted into babysitting and I now have a displeased baby and a rambunctious little boy and I am not a babysitter, Molly. I'm a detective." His words came out fast and brash and she couldn't help but giggle lightly at her friend's distress. It wasn't every day that the great Sherlock Holmes admitted to being bad at something.

"Yes, you're a detective. So deduce what is wrong with the kids," said Molly sweetly and Sherlock grunted in response.

"Can you just come over? You must have some sort of maternal extinct. At least it won't be two against one, as it is now." He sounded desperate and she sighed, staring out the window into the darkness, searching for stars that weren't there. She had planned on settling down in bed and enjoying her Friday night with a good book, but she couldn't help but feel bad for the consulting detective as she heard a loud crash and more crying. "Please, Molly," he pleaded. But it wasn't necessary. Before the words even left Sherlock's mouth she had her coat on and was out the door.

Walking into Baker Street was like walking into a warzone. Molly's mouth opened in shock as she set her bag down by the door and took in her surroundings. Baby clothes were thrown everywhere. There was a food stain on the wall and darts stuck into that yellow smiley face. A foul odor transmitted from the kitchen, which was also the source of the crying.

"I told you no, Archie," she heard Sherlock say sharply, his tone decidedly authoritarian, almost sounding like a father.

"But you said we could do an experiment!" argued the little boy and Molly arrived in the kitchen to see Archie with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face. She noticed a strange blue liquid covering everything in sight: the walls, the table, the countertops, Archie, Sherlock, and the baby.

"Yes. I did say that. I also said that you needed to wait for me and that the chemicals were off limits," replied the deranged looking consulting detective. "Your mother would kill me if she found out I let you play with them." He turned from Archie and bounced Ava lightly who had to have been crying for at least forty-five minutes straight now.

"I don't understand," muttered Sherlock to himself, seemingly unaware of Molly's presence. "I read all the websites. I laid out firm rules, I child-proofed the flat, I only used bribery once, I tried changing diapers and feeding." Molly could see the fear in Sherlock's eyes. His clothes were rumpled and a bit of throw up made a path down his shoulder. He sighed deeply while throwing a blue dish into the sink and turning on the water. Archie leaned over to watch which earned him another glare from the detective. Molly thought it best to step in.

"Need any help?" she asked slowly and he turned to her, relief washing his face.

"Thank, God," he said simply and his entire body relaxed. He walked over to kiss her on the forehead. She stood stunned for a second, before Archie's voice cut through her trance.

"I knew you were on the phone with your girlfriend. You told me my deduction was wrong," he said, his voice full of purpose.

"That's because she's not my girlfriend for the thousandth time," replied the detective, loud enough to be heard over Ava's cries.

"But you said you were going to ask her out!" responded the little boy and he seemed pleased with himself when Sherlock went still with shock and Molly turned to him, a blush beginning to form on her cheeks. He was right, of course. Archie and Sherlock had had many the conversations about Molly, Archie doing his best to urge the detective toward her.

"Bathtub. Now," said Sherlock through clenched teeth.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Okay!" cut in Molly and clapped her hands together. "Archie, I'm sure that if you get in the bathtub Sherlock would be more than happy to play pirate with you and help get the blue-goo sea urchins out of your hair."

"Fine," said the little boy. "But I get to be Black Beard." And he took off toward the bathroom. Sherlock stared at Molly wondering how in the world she got Archie in the bath that quickly when he had been begging for at least two hours.

"Now come here, baby," said Molly and held her hands out toward Sherlock. He gave her a strange expression before she laughed. "The actual baby, Sherlock."

"Oh. Right," he replied and handed the little girl over to Molly. She cradled her close to her chest, but the little one still fussed.

"I tried everything," started Sherlock. "I tried feeding her, I tried changing her diaper, I tried reading to her, I tried playing the violin. None of it worked. She's been crying for ages and I'm going to go mad." He ran two hands through his curls in frustration.

"Hush. You just go take care of Archie. I'll take care of Ava. Two against two, right?" He nodded and headed toward the bathroom. When he got there, he was met with water and bubbles all over the floor.

"How can someone so small make such a big mess?" he asked Archie who was sitting in the chest deep water, sporting a bubble beard. He giggled at the consulting detective as he leaned over to wipe up the floor. "You are not always this overactive."

"You gave me candy," replied the boy with a shrug. "Mom says I can't handle it. I go bonkers."

"Candy makes children hyper. Got it," he said as he stored the little fact in his mind palace. "I never thought I would need that one. So what did we learn tonight, Archie?"

"That experimenting is fun?"

"Yes. But what else?"

"That blowing things up is fun?"

"Yes. But other than that." Archie wrinkled his forehead in thought, his eyes shooting upward and his little hand stroking his bubble beard.

"That brains look cool?" he asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"You make me appreciate my mother which is a feat not easily accomplished," replied the detective. "Congratulations. But the correct answer is when I say don't touch the chemicals because some of them could burn your skin off, you shouldn't touch the chemicals."

"Don't touch the chemicals," said the boy as Sherlock started to work on washing his hair. "Got it."

When the two emerged from the bathroom, Archie finally in his pajamas and Sherlock sporting a completely soaked shirt, Sherlock was shocked to discover that the kitchen was completely clean and there was no crying to be heard. They walked to the sofa and saw Molly, her hair recently pulled up into a pony tail, singing to Ava as she bicycled her little legs.

"Hello, Sherlock. Hello, Black Beard," she said to the two boys when she saw them.

"I'm tired, Molly," said the little boy.

"Is he sleeping on the couch?" Molly asked Sherlock and he shook his head.

"He can have my bed." She picked the baby up. Ava immediately started crying and Molly passed her to Sherlock while she situated Archie in Sherlock's room, pulling a blanket up to his chest before turning the lamp off and walking back toward the living room. Sherlock was sitting on the couch, trying to mimic Molly's actions from earlier, grabbing Ava's legs and moving them back and forth.

"She has colic. It helps if you keep her legs moving. It relieves some of the gas." Molly sat on the couch beside him and watched him for a bit. She saw tension fall from his shoulders as Ava calmed down and was beginning to drift off. "You're being awfully quiet. Shell shocked?"

He nodded but then cleared his throat. "Yes. I didn't realize that having them for more than four hours would be this hard." He looked up at her and gave her a small smile. "Thank you for coming, by the way. I don't know what I would have done."

"You would have figured it out eventually. You're smart." He just shrugged at that. "You still have blue goo in your hair. I'll watch her while you take a shower." He nodded and stood up, collecting clothes before retreating to the bathroom.

The night had been a crazy one for him ever since John had dropped the kids off earlier that afternoon. He wasn't too sure about being responsible for a baby and a little boy for two nights, but everyone else seemed to have faith in him for some odd reason. And besides, there was always back-up if need be.

Sherlock stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over him, washing chemicals from his hair and sleep from his eyes. His mind drifted to the place where it always went these days when he was quiet and still. It went to Molly. Sherlock liked her. He had known that for a while. But lately he had been feeling the urge to act on it. Wanting to kiss her whenever she pursed her lips in concentration over paperwork. Wanting to hug her when she came in the lab one day completely defeated after being heckled by some of her coworkers. Wanting just to be near her as much as he could. It was a new feeling for him, one that he wasn't taking lightly.

Archie wasn't helping at all as he brought Molly up whenever Sherlock was watching him.

"Is Molly coming over tonight?" asked Archie through a mouthful of pasta while he, Sherlock, and the baby sat down for dinner that night.

"I was going to call her tomorrow. Why?" replied the detective.

"Because she's fun to play with."

"Yes. Molly is decidedly the least boring person I know," replied the detective happily.

"So did you ask her out yet?"

"No. Why are you so insistent upon this?

"Because you love her, duh. You look at her the way that Mr. Watson looks at Mrs. Watson."

Sherlock scoffed. "I do not love Molly Hooper. Is she interesting? Yes. Do I enjoy spending time with her? Yes. Do I like her? Yes. But I am not capable of love."

Little did he know that an hour later he would be on the phone with her, begging her to come over to help and he would slowly but surely realize that yes, he was in love with Molly Hooper and it could be that he always had been. He hated when she was mad at him. She was the first person he went to when he needed some sort of help and just wanted some companionship. And she never thought twice about helping him. Like tonight. She came right over, still dressed in her pajamas, and cleaned up a mess in thirty minutes that would have taken him all night. Things were easier with Molly. But that didn't make them any less exciting.

When he returned to the living room after his shower, Molly was sitting on the couch reading a book. Ava was in her bassinet off in the corner of the room sleeping soundly. Sherlock watched Molly for a second before lying down and pushing his head up toward her hands. She looked down at him, set the book aside, and ran her hands through his hair the way he liked when he was stressed.

"You're thinking about what Archie said earlier," he whispered and her face flushed red, unaware that he was even trying to deduce her.

"It's not a big deal. Kids will be kids," she replied at an equal volume as his eyes fluttered shut. "Although I'm not sure why he is so persistent when it comes to me and you."

"It's probably because he knows the truth."

"What truth?"

He took a deep breath, sitting up and grabbing her hand before speaking. "Molly Hooper, I think I may be…" And that's when Archie walked in and promptly threw up all over the living room floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Both Molly and Sherlock stared at the child with their mouths agape while tears started streaming down Archie's face. A puddle of puke laid on the floor between the couch and Archie and the smell was quickly beginning to ruminate throughout the flat. Sherlock's face fell as stared at the boy. He had finally gathered the courage to talk to Molly and now all of that was out the window. Archie started retching again and it broke Molly out of her trance long enough to walk over to the boy and lay her hand on his back. She started offering words of comfort while Sherlock went to the kitchen and grabbed a bucket, handing it to her. She held it in front of Archie.

Sherlock assessed the situation. The boy's dinosaur pajamas were littered with his dinner and his sobs were beginning to increase, making him gag more. "It's okay, sweetie. It's okay," he heard Molly saying as she continued to rub his back.

"I want my mom!" he managed to get out and Molly looked nervous for the first time that night as she looked at Sherlock. He cleared his throat and stepped in.

"Your mother will be back in two days, Archie…"

"But Sherlock and I are going to take good care of you," Molly cut in. Archie went to talk again but started throwing up. Ava, who had been sleeping peacefully in the corner, chose this moment to wake up and start screaming again. Sherlock rushed over and picked her up, bouncing her gently.

He looked to Molly as if to say help and she got the message, stepping into action. "Okay. Okay. We can handle this, right? I'll clean up Archie."

"I'll clean up this mess and try to calm Ava down," he replied.

"Right. Okay. Archie." He turned around slowly and started walking with Molly toward the bathroom.

"Molly, I…" started Sherlock but then stopped, as he wasn't sure where that sentence was going.

"We can talk later?" she asked and he nodded once before watching her go.

Molly started drawing another bath for Archie as the sick little boy sat on the toilet, completely exhausted. "Come here, love," she said and held out her arms. Archie rushed toward her and fell into them, both of her arms wrapping around the little boy and her head bent down to kiss the top of his curls. Sherlock had been watching him a lot lately and Molly usually spent time with the two of them when she wasn't busy at work. She grew closer with the little boy and he almost felt like a nephew to her. She liked to think that she could offer him some sort of comfort in this situation.

"Do you think you can be a brave boy and not need Mum for a few days?" she asked him and Archie nodded. Molly felt his forehead. Warm. Clammy. Most likely running a fever. Molly held Archie close and rocked him a bit.

"Is Sherlock mad at me?" he whispered and she pulled back to look at him.

"Now why do you think he was mad at you?"

"He gave me the look he gives Anderson when he gets in the way at the police station," replied the little boy with a yawn. She had to laugh at his deductions. He was very bright.

"I don't think he's mad at you. He was just in the middle of telling me something."

"That he loves you," said Archie softly and Molly whipped her head around to look at him, shock all over her face.

"Molly," said Sherlock as he walked into the bathroom, holding Ava who was now awake, but quiet. "I called his mother."

"Good," she said but it didn't come out any louder than a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Good. I'll get him cleaned off and then we can talk, yeah?" Sherlock nodded and went to leave.

A half an hour later, Archie was in new pajamas sprawled across the couch and Molly held Ava on the end while also stroking Archie's hair. Sherlock emerged from the kitchen with Archie's now-clean bucket and set it beside the little boy's head. He stood in front of the couch, watching its three occupants and feeling his heart beat a little faster, his stomach feeling like it was free-falling, a physiological reaction that he was beginning to be able to explain. Being able to name. Calling it love.

"What does your mum do to make you feel better when you're sick, Archie?" asked Molly quietly.

"She holds me and tells me stories," he replied, his voice hoarse and Molly looked up at Sherlock and pulled a pitying face. She mouthed _hold him. _Sherlock looked at her like she was crazy. The only things he'd ever held were Ava and his mobile. Archie's hand but that was for protection. John's hand once but that was for a case. But one look to Archie and the little tears running down his cheeks, he thought back to a time when he was around his age and sometimes he wanted to be held by his mum but Mycroft would always make fun of him because of it. He remembered that pain.

So he bent down and picked up Archie before sitting on the couch right next to Molly and settling the little boy against his chest. Molly smiled up at the pair and reached over to run her hand through Sherlock's hair. "I suppose I'm telling the story?" she asked.

"Unless you want one about poisonous nail polish, a shredded head via lawn mower, and an evil step mum murderer," replied Sherlock.

"Not exactly the fairytale I had in mind, no," she laughed and Sherlock smiled over at her, catching her eyes for a second before she settled back against the couch. "Once upon a time there was a prince."

"Clichéd. Boring," mumbled Sherlock to which she gently bumped his shoulder and he smirked. Maybe it was boring, but she was thinking about what Archie said. About Sherlock loving her and she had to wonder if it was the truth. She spent more time with him than anyone else, and usually she wasn't the one to invite him. He invited her. Or he went to see her. So was there any truth behind Archie's deductions? She figured the only way to find out was to bare herself to him first. And give him the opportunity to respond.

"Anyway," she continued when Sherlock shifted Archie to his opposite shoulder and leaned his own head on the back of the couch. She mirrored his movements, both of them looking straight ahead. "Once upon a time there was a prince. He lived in a faraway kingdom in a castle high up on a hill and spent his days solving the mysteries of the kingdom. His brother, the king, ruled the entire land and looked after his little brother to make sure that he wouldn't get into any trouble.

"You see, the prince was extremely intelligent and he impressed everyone he met with his skills. But sometimes, he could be rude to people, sometimes without even meaning to be. Some of the people were jealous of his smarts. Some just didn't understand such a genius. But when the kingdom turned against him, his friends were there for him. You see Archie, some princes acted kind and loving and charming, but those ones are the fake ones. Once someone got to know them, they realized that the princes weren't really that special. But this prince, our prince, he was quite the opposite. Our prince acted rude and annoying and like he didn't care. But those closest to him knew the truth. That he loved deeply and cared widely."

As she spoke, her eyes fluttered shut and his opened wide, turning his head to look over at her, the way her mouth turned around every word, the way her eyebrow crinkled as she thought of the next line. Her voice was like a song, something he played on his violin that he could listen to all day long. He was vaguely aware of Archie becoming heavier on his chest and Ava starting to snore.

"One time, the prince was threatened by a huge dragon, a beast so large that he couldn't slay it by himself. There a came a time when the prince had to let someone solve him, as opposed to him solving everyone else. So he went to a princess who fixed the dead. Because the prince was going to die. And he was going to need fixing. And she helped him. Because she was one of the few who saw past the prince's armor. After the dragon was slayed, the prince had to leave on a long voyage. When he returned, the princess was no longer his, though she wished to be. But the prince didn't see it that way. Because yes, the prince's favorite activity was solving the kingdom mysteries, but there was always one that he could never quite unravel. And of course, it had to do with the princess."

Archie was sleeping soundly by now, but Molly went on, her head slowly drifting nearer and nearer to Sherlock's shoulder, so close that he hoped she couldn't hear his heart rate increasing.

"The prince knew everything about everybody just by looking at them," Molly continued. "But if there was one thing he never figured out, it was how much the princess loved her prince and had always loved him and would always love him."

He didn't say anything for a long time. She worried about her decision, the decision to say these words to him, even if they were indirect. She was about ready to apologize, to backtrack, but then she heard the intake of breath, the one that took place just before someone was about to say something important.

"Love isn't a fairytale, Molly Hooper," he whispered.

She looked over at him and realized that he was looking back, his face only inches from hers, his pupil blown wide in the soft light of the room. "It can be if you make it one," she whispered back and the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile, wondering why it took him this long to figure out him and Molly.

"And if there was one thing the princess deserved to know more than anything else in the world," he said with a shuddering breath, "it was that the prince finally realized that he loved her back." She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes scrunching up and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. They were silent then, having said everything they could for one night. So with a small, happy sigh, Molly settled her head back on Sherlock's shoulder, pulled Ava tighter to her chest and fell asleep to the soft snoring of sleeping children and a smile on her face that she couldn't quite shake.


End file.
